


Skyrim: We fucked up.

by BakaRamenBowl



Series: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, Red will take your stuff., The dunmer is half nord, Thorn is a baby, elli will stab you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-10 23:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8943106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakaRamenBowl/pseuds/BakaRamenBowl
Summary: This is the story of how three very different people ended up on a wagon with a horse thief, a rebel, and the rightful king of Skyrim. A history of how they lived and how they came to meet.Comments are welcome.





	1. The Thief

One stormy night in the Solstheim province of Morrowind, a baby girl was born. With ashen skin and large red eyes, one could see the parentage. The freckles across the bridge of her nose and her round face made her maternal heritage obvious as well. The fiery red curls upon her head surprised both of the young parents, and they named her Red. 

Young Red grew quickly, and was sharp as a whip. Growing up on Morrowind wasn't the easiest start of life for a half Dunmer. Red's father, Nys Roea, died before her first birthday. He was in the Redoran Guard, and got in a skirmish with some reavers attacking the Bulwark. Her mother, Eir, worked as a washerwoman, trying to support her young daughter. Red ran about Raven Rock; bothering the guards, looking at the various wares that the merchants tried to sell, picking scathecrow and ash yams and trama root.

When she was three, her mother started getting very sick. Red stated looking at the meager coin purses the older residents of the town had on their belts. Even at three, she knew the yellow shiny things could get the medicine her mother needed. She started asking for the shiny gold disks, but not one of the Dunmer would give her any. As her frustration grew, she started sneaking sujamma from the stands, or ash yams from the neighbors, or the occasional potions from the apothecary. She would sell them back to the people she took them from, and got the medicine her mother needed.

Sadly, as she got older, her mother grew worse, which meant that she needed more medicine. Red, buy that time had become rather infamous around town for stealing others' wares and selling them. So she had to get trickier than before to get the money for the medicine. She started taking money from people's pockets. Snagging weapons from their sides, and taking jewelry off of their person. She was becoming quite the thief, and she'd been locked up a few times for her thievery. That was how she started picking locks. Getting out of jail, learning to sneak by the guards, and still managing to pay for her mother's potions.

On her tenth birthday, her mother finally passed away. Having nothing to keep her in Morrowind, she packed up her meager belongings and stole away on a boat for Skyrim. She stayed in Windhelm for a short while, living in the Grey Quarter. But the Dunmer kept their distance because she looked too much like a Nord, and the Nords treated her like shit because she was Dunmer. Still, she stole from various places in Windhelm, like the Palace of Kings, The Candlehearth Hall, even the Hall of the Dead. Her bounty rose to the point that she could no longer afford to remain in Eastmarch, so she left, went south. Through the Rift, through Riften, and down into Cyrodiil. 

She spent quite some time in Cyrodiil, stealing from the rich and giving to her poor, poor self. She racked up quite the reputation, her uncanny skills earning her a bounty that some could only dream of gaining. Eventually, she left, but her reputation preceeded her, and not in a good way. Soon assassins and vagabonds and other ne'er-do-wells were after her, hoping to cash her in and pay off their own prices. It took her a while to get why they knew her so quickly. Her wildly curly, frizzy, unmanageable, obnoxiously red hair.

Her mother had loved her hair, so Red had refused to cut it for so long, but her life wasn't worth her sentimentality. She cut her hair short enough to hide under a helmet, and slipped by many of the would be attackers. She may have been a thief, but she didn't like killing. Killing meant one less person to rob, and where was the fun in that?

So for the next eight years, Red kept stealing, kept moving, kept avoiding detection. But even she grew homesick, and wanted to see her homeland once more, see how Solstheim had changed in the sixteen years she had been gone. She passed through the rift, heading towards the Morrowind border, on the 15th of Last Seed, 4E 201, and was suddenly surrounded by imperial forces. She heard someone shouting to lay down their arms, another yelling orders to capture them. 

She hadn't even noticed the group of men and women nearby, dressing in what looked like the Eastmarch guard armor. She locked eyes with a tiny woman in dark leather armor as someone yelled stop, and her world went black.


	2. The Assassin

Growing up in one of the noble houses of High Rock wasn't as bad as most would think. Elouan Milory knew this from a young age. Elli, as she preferred to be called, learned fairly early to not speak unless spoken to. Tell them what they want to hear. Never say what you thought. Don't show emotions. Sleep with a dagger under your pillow. There were rules one followed to remain alive, physically and among high society.

When she was eight, she killed her first would-be assassin, and the feeling of the warm blood on her hands, the metallic taste in her mouth and the smell of copper hanging in the air, it filled her with a sense of completion she had never felt before. The feeling of holding someone's life in her hands and choosing to end it. The way their body drained of color as the blood pooled around them, their breathing stopping and the light fading from their eyes. It made her feel... alive.

As she grew older, she would sneak out of her rooms at night and steal away to the destitute parts of the city. There, she could pick off a few peasants and nobody would care. She developed new and different ways to kill her victims, from fast painless ways, to slow and painful, bloody ways of taking the life. She practiced and perfected her abilities, and eventually, offered her services in dark secret rooms if the gold was good enough.

In her teens, her parents wanted her to start looking for a prospective husband. Marriage was the last thing in Elli's mind, and Assassinations were her one true love. She was never happier than when she was drenched in the blood of her victim.

On the outside, in the daylight, Elli was a fairly beautiful young woman. She followed the rules to survive in the backstabbing world of the aristocracy, keeping her true thoughts to herself, saying the right things, keeping her head down. Her fair skin and slender frame often turned the heads of others, her green eyes seemingly on the ground, as she portrayed the shy polite young woman. Many had to ask her age though, as she was scarcely taller than an average ten year old boy.

Elli wanted nothing more than to be free of the mind-numbing world of politics and scandals. She wanted to go out and see the world, and leave her bloody mark on it. But her parents kept pushing young men at her, many of whom met with fatal accidents shortly after the wedding plans had been agreed upon. Somehow she managed to keep herself from being suspected of any of the murders for many years.

When she was twenty two years old, her mother caught her in the middle of assassinating the newest young man to be offered her hand. Elli simply finished the deed while challenging her mother's shocked gaze. Blood sprayed into the young woman's face, but her sharp green eyes remained locked with the shocked golden orbs of her mother. After about thirty seconds, the older woman screamed, making guards come running immediately. By the time they reached the woman, Elli had disappeared.

The young woman traveled around Hammerfell for a while before turning her gaze to Skyrim. She somehow ended up north of Riften, wandering about the tundra, looking for a good place to lie low for a while. Instead, on the 15th of Last Seed, 4E 201, she wandered right into an Imperial ambush. Her eyes met a strange pair of red ones before something clobbered her in the back of the head, sending her into oblivion.


	3. The Farmer

With a name like Thorn, everyone expected him to be strong, sharp, prickly. He should be able to do anything. The blond Nord boy had always been taller than everyone else his age. His parents had hoped that he would grow stronger if they pushed him. Instead, he remained as fearful and meek as ever. He ran at the slightest sign of danger, and even butterflies could make him cry. He wasn't anything like a Nord should be. And his disappointed parents eventually stopped trying to make him strong and left him alone.

Thorn knew he was a disappointment to his parents. It was just that he didn't want to take the life of any other animal or creature. He even felt bad eating plants, but they didn't cry out if you miss your mark with a bow. Thorn was just a very kindhearted boy, and it pained him to let anybody down. He tried to please his parents, and the other residents of Darkwater Crossing, but no matter how hard he tried, he only left unsatisfied people in his wake.

As an eleven year old boy, he liked to wander the tundra, exploring and harvesting Jazbay grapes to munch on, and collecting creep clusters and dragon's tongue to make fire resistance potions. He also worked in the farmyard to raise potatoes and leeks, but he only got a certain amount for his pay, since he didn't want to work in the mine.

One day, he met a starving khajit girl, curled up near the Atronach Stone. He carried her back to his house, and it was oddly dark for being so late in the day. He opened the door, only to find everything his mother and father owned, was gone. He carefully lay the girl down in his bed and looked around to see if his parents had left any food. All he found was a single salt pile.

Knowing that the girl would die if he didn't start feeding her, he ran out of the house and to the neighbor's garden. There was a potato on the table, and he quickly snatched it and ran home before anyone could see. He made potato soup and fed the girl, who had grey fur with black spots and gold eyes. As they spoke, his own mismatched green/gold eyes shone with the light of a boy finding a friend.

Nora, the Khajit, had been raised by Nords just south of Whiterun, but had been moving somewhere else when she got separated from them. Nora stayed with Thorn, and she started working the mines as he worked the farm. She stood up for him when other adults and children would make fun of him for being a softhearted milk drinker. Thorn could swing an axe to cut up firewood, and he was good at it too. But he would never pick up an axe to harm another person.

Eventually, he just decided to give up pleasing anyone, and just continued with his meager existence. He grew crops, and had a friend at home. That was good enough for him.

A month after his twentieth birthday, he heard the sound of fighting nearby the village. He didn't want the villagers to get involved, so he hurried to see what was going on. Imperials were attacking Stormcloaks, like that was anything new, but what bothered him was the fact that they were just attacking anybody in the viscinity. He hurried to tell them that they were close to a village, and some villagers would be gathering herbs. Instead of listening, they grabbed him as well. He tried to struggle, only to have someone knock him over the head.

It was the 15th of Last Seed, 4E 201.


End file.
